Caroline Marston
by MegiieSue
Summary: All we were told about John's Daughter was that she was deceased. Pretty vague, right? Well behind that boring explanation was a girl, an innocent child who was subjected to the Outlaw life of her parents. This is her story...
1. Slaughter of her Innocence

You know that one conversation John had with Bonnie that day on the porch? The one where he told her about his past. Remember? How he mentioned his Wife, Son... Daughter. Well he never said much of her, and of course it leads a mind to wander as to who this girl was. Did she die at birth, or live to her latter childhood? We probably will never know, so I decided to let my mind create this character, Caroline. The daughter of John and Abigail Marston.

Forgive me for anyone who believes I butchered any already existing characters, or any who dislike the child Marston. It's my first fan fic so be nice!(Do not own Red Dead Redemption blahblahblah)

1906

"Papa?"

"Yes, Darlin?"

"Why do you and Uncle Dutch shoot people?" The young girl spoke so soft and innocently. Her words lightly slurring, from young age and lack of experience.

"Why do ya ask that?"

"I just thought it's 'cause you don't like 'em… Papa, if you stop liking me will you shoot me too?"

"Course not, Caroline. Dutch, Your mother, and I do it to protect you. You and Jack."

"They didn't look like they was hurting anybody. I don't get it, Pa."

"The world's a confusing place, Darlin. You'll get it someday." The girl stumbled along behind her father, chewing on the sleeve of her pink cardigan. Her small muddy boots patted against the soft, warm soil that baked in the Texas sun. She stumbled a few times, blinded from seeing straight by her messy dark hair falling messily upon her burnt cheeks.

She was stopped by her father's hand. John stood still, observing something in the distance. They had neared a ranch of some sort, and front and center stood four beautifully kept horses. A black standard bred is what caught his attention. It's coat glistened in the sun's rays, and it's stamina appeared tremendous. It would catch a great price in Black Water, and it wouldn't be such a bad horse to ride with either,

"Caroline, wait here." With that the man motioned his daughter behind a rock, and started toward the hitching post.

Caroline stood alone behind a large rock. She kicked a few pebbles, obviously bored. She thought of her family, and missed them. Although it had only been a few hours, to a child it felt like days. Earlier that day her 'family' had planned a train raid. It hadn't gone as planned, and the group got separated. While the others had already escaped, John found Caroline alone near the passed train tracks. Incidents following the failed raid left her stranded. Likely she would had been lost for good, but that was the risk when choosing to raise a family with Outlaws.

She kicked the large rock, upset at her father. She didn't like that he took so many lives, but she also thought of his last words. That they did it to protect her, her and Jack. That she wouldn't understand yet. What was not to understand? Her father was a murderer, and it was wrong in such an innocent mind.

What was he father up to anyways? Caroline had a sudden wave of curiosity, giving in she peeked from behind the rock. Her small head leaned over, slightly toppling. What she saw shocked her.

John stood near the barn where the four horses were hitched to their post. No man seemed to be in sight at the moment, and he was not about to loose his chance. The man adjusted his hat, lifting his bandana to cover his face. With that he took one last look around, and mounted the stallion. Suddenly she heard another voice foreign to her, it did not belong to her father.

A man approached John. He was dressed in a worn out flannel shirt, with mudded slacks. He appeared to be just as unkempt as her father, with a stubble beard and a handle bar mustache. He pointed his finger at John, continuing to yell. Caroline's eyes widened. With one swift movement John had reached for his holster, pulled out a pistol, and aimed. The barrel pointed between the man's eyes. He barely had a chance to back away before John had a chance to release the blow. She gasped, cupping her mouth between her hands. Her expression turned to horror.

Voices followed the crack of the bullet, loud yells. John kicked the horse into a gallop, and started toward the rock. Farm hand's began to cluster around the deceased man. Cries sounded as her father neared.

Caroline pouted. As he arrived at the rock, he spoke sternly holding a hand down to his daughter,

"Here!" She dropped her arms to lay limp at her sides. Her step back followed by her expression should have been enough to explain.

"C'mon!" He yelled at the young girl. A slight whimper escaped her lips as she gave in and took her father's hand. He lifted her, dangling her body before dropping her between him and the black horse's neck. The thick coal colored hair tickled her finger tips as she gripped them to keep steady. The horse took off down the road, weaving in and out. Off and on the road to loose the searching law men.

Eventually he lost them, a victorious gain of a wonderful horse. Now all that was left was to find where the gang had set up camp. Caroline stuttered, sucking up her tears before she spoke.

"Papa, why'd you take that man's horse?"

" I'm… only borrowing it, Darlin."

"But why? Why'd you shoot him?"

" I told you to stay hidden. Why'd you look!"

"I'm sorry, Pa." The girl whimpered, tears filling her sockets.

There was a long silence, for longer than a few minutes. By that time they neared the camp. The sun was setting and a fire blazed in the center. The light castled a reflection on the figures sitting by it. An eleven year old Jack sat next to his mother, bundled as she poked at the fire. Somewhere to the right Dutch stood talking to Bill, probably discussing another plan. The horse pulled to a stop near the camp. John lifted Caroline off the tall horse after dismounting it. She darted for Dutch embracing him with a hug. He patted her on the head in response,

"Uncle Dutch!"

"There you are, sweetheart. I was worried about you."

"Yeah, 'fore you left her alone for dead." John remarked,

"Ain't you just a ray of sunshine, John."

" Got us a pretty good horse, not that it means anything. Thought we could sell it or somethin."

"Well hey, the boy did something right for once. Taught ya well."

The two continued their conversation on long enough for Caroline to make her way across the camp. She embraced her mother next, finding her way into her lap,

"Hi, Ma." Abigail wrapped her arms around her child and brought her close,

"Oh Caroline, I was so worried! Where've you been? Is your father alright?" The girl giggled pulling away from her mother to look at her face,

"Calm down, Mama. Me and Papa are okay!"

"Thank the Lord." She placed Caroline down next to her, " Caroline, Jack, it's time for bed. Go on now."

"I'm not a kid, Ma. And I'm not tired!"

"Excuse me?" The boy grumbled reluctantly taking her orders and seeing him and his sister off to bed.

"C'mon." He shoved her by the shoulder causing her to stumble. Abigail whacked him upside the head to scold. It was enough of punishment to put him in place, for now.

Caroline was the first to get her rolled up pad untied from the horse's back. Although she was very short in size and stature, she had climbing a horse to a science. She placed it a few yards off from the main camp, not wanting to be too close to her parents. Proving herself as not being too dependant upon parental guidance was something she had copied from Jack. She began to situate herself on her makeshift bed, pulling her blanket up to her neck. She shifted to find a spot, later stopping to stare at the stars. The sun had just set, and the moon's light began to shine minimal light upon the camp. Beside her she could hear Jack laying out his pad. He removed his boots, placing them besides his head as he laid in his pad.

Caroline examined the many stars in the night sky, like white freckles across a blackened face. Her mind wondered upon the explanation for such a wondrous creation,

"Jack."

"Yeah?" He mumbled.

"Why can't we see stars durin the day? They so pretty, I wanna see them all the time."

"'Cause if we always seen them, they wouldn't be pretty no more."

"I think they'd be." They sat in silence for a moment. Both siblings could hear the voices of Dutch and Bill only yards off. Abigail probably didn't appreciate their distance, but she knew better than to try and correct either of them. They were stubborn, and would only go back the next night. Both voices they heard became muffled by their drowsy states, but Caroline's curious nature never seized, " Jack, what was that stuff 'bout stars you were tellin' me last night? Something Contlastons…

"Constellations."

"Yeah… what're those?" Jack scooted his mat closer to his sisters, taping her on the shoulder startling her to sit up,

"C'mere." He pointed his finger to the dark sky above. It traced a line along the brightest stars that seemed to form a ladle, " That there's called the big Dipper. See how it looks like a spoon?" She giggled in delight at his story. Her joyful reaction forced a smile upon Jack's lips. As if his own intelligence providing joy to his sister was all it took to make him happy, he continued, "It's also a Bear named Ursa."

"Aw, howda you know, Jack?"

"I read it in a book once…"

"But you can't read!"

"Sure I can! Dutch and Pa taught me!"

"Pa never taught me howta read. What makes you so gosh darn special!" She turned over in a pout, stuffing her face into her limp pillow. Her breaths muffled against the not-so-cushioned padding provided for sleep. She was disturbed, but not enough to turn over by another shove by her brother,

"Turn over, ya dunce! Tell you what, when you're 10 I'll teach you to read myself." She turned over in excitement. Barely able to hold in her delight, she flashed a huge grin to her brother,

"Then I can read 'bout stars?"

"Anything with words on it." She kicked her feet in delight, giggling under her blanket, "But stay quiet! Don't tell Ma I told you this."

"Why?"

"You know Ma can't read. She'll get all sad if she knew she was the only one who can't." It was true, probably the only intelligent Marston for their age was the 11 year old boy Jack. Able to read and write since age 9 he could write sentences at a time.

"Okay." Caroline turned in her bed. She pulled her blanket to her nose to protect her from the cold. She softly spoke, "Night."

"Night." Jack responded.

Well that's it for this chapter. Hope that gives you a bit of insight as to the Character of Caroline. Leave a review, but be nice!


	2. Tragedy is at Hand

1908

It had been two years from the first time she witnessed firsthand the greatest sin a man could commit, from her own father. Although it had only been a mere blink in the eyes of eternity, it had been forever in the terms of maturity in the young Caroline. Her curious and childish nature had been nearly tamed, and she had begun to appear secluded from her own family.

Lately, she often wandered off, even dangerously far from where the gang stayed. Even at such a tender age, she had been aged beyond her years. The choices of her parent's were beginning to take a toll on her.

"Momma, what's takin em so long?"

"Just some business to attend to, sweetheart."

"More killing?" Her mother let out a sigh that sounded more like an umph,

"No. Where would you get an idea like that!"

"I've seen it." Her voice remained monotone, she stared with a tired glance forward as she leaned her head back against the wooden shed. Abigail, Jack, and Caroline all stood on the outskirts of what would be a modern day ghost town. It was much like Armadillo, but slightly more civilized with a well established and known bank around the area. It was today's target mission for Dutch's gang this morning. The whole group, both Marston and all, were unaware of what was to happen that day,

"Only when fired at, sweetheart."

" I don't care. No one should even shoot at anyone! Pa's stupid."

"Caroline!" Abigail raised her voice to her daughter,

"I hope he gets shot." That moment, she felt a throbbing pain pound through her skull as her mother whacked her upside the head. She moaned in pain, grabbing for the back of her head,

"I've heard enough of you, I don't wanna hear another word out of your mouth." Caroline glared up to her mother's disapproving stare.

A loud cracking sound startled the group, causing them all to turn in an abrupt search for the source of the noise. Caroline could make out a group, all riding horses and some with large white sacks in hand. She tore her gaze away to look up to her mother. Abigail watched intently with much worry in her stare. Another crack rolled in waves toward them, this time, one of the men fell. She couldn't quite make out who it was, but she hadn't needed to. Abigail's expression turned to terror,

"John!" Her projected voice sounded from her quivering lips. Caroline continued to examine the distance, her eyes filled with worry and regret, the man who fell was her father. Abigail mounted her horse, only turning her head to shout directions to her and her brother,

"Jack, take your sister and run. Don't worry about us, go!" With that she dug her heel into the side of the horse, thrusting it into a gallop towards the main road. Jack and Caroline stood in shock for a mere moment before he mounted the last horse. Caroline froze, she saw one man pull his horse to a stop, while the other two continued to disappear in the distance. He stared at the fallen man, double taking between the group and John. Only seconds later, he turned his horse and began following the two again, later believed to be Dutch and Bill,

"Caroline!" She lifted her troubled eyes to see her brother, one hands reaching down from a horse to lift her. His expression matched her's, but he had a better way of hiding it,

"What are you waiting for!" He screamed. She whined, taking his hand and lifting herself to sit behind him on the horse. She wrapped her arms around her brother's back, as they rode in the opposite direction.

Tears filled her eyes as the reality of the situation set in. Her father had fallen off the horse, had he been shot? Even worse, no one stopped to help. Her father could die, what she had wished to happen only minutes ago. She squeezed the tears from their sockets, pressing her tear stained cheek against Jack,

"This is all my fault!"

"What?"

"I wished for Pa to die, I didn't mean it!"

"He's not gonna die!"

"You saw it! He got shot and- and he's gonna die!"

"He'll be fine."

"How'd you know!"

"I just do!"


	3. The Turning Point

The Turning Point

"Are you sure they're here?"

"Yeah. They always are."

The two children climbed off the tall horse, first Jack then Caroline stumbling behind. They had approached an abandoned shack, it appeared to had been built maybe 30 years in advanced. It's roof was about to collapse and the wood used as walls seemed to be near rotting from the harsh weathering of the area. The gang sometimes used it as a place to regroup if ever separated, but right then it seemed to be deserted. Jack was the first to step through the empty doorway, Caroline once again stuttering to follow through the door. She waited a few moment's before entering.

Inside, Jack could see his mother leaned over in a chair next to a cot against the wall. He was relieved to find John passed out on the makeshift bed but slightly worried as to the state of his health. The creaks of the floorboard sounded, alerting Abigail to lift her face from her palms,

"Jack." She whispered his name, rushing over to embrace him, " Thank God." She pulled away, still keeping her hands on his shoulders to look him in the eye, " Where's your sister?"

Caroline stepped through the door, her expression seemed less than thrilled,

"There's my baby…"

"Momma." She moaned as her mother embraced her. The reunion felt less than joyful for Caroline. She tilted her head to examined the man who laid in the cot on the other side of the small room. He appeared to be breathing, allowing her to sigh in relief but also annoyance. She hated to admit it, but she never really loved her father the way a daughter should, and it wouldn't be such a grave loss to her if he were to die. Although, she wouldn't go as far as to truly wish his death would come sooner than later.

"Is _he_ okay?"

"Yeah, he's just sleeping. He ain't all that healthy but… he didn't manage to go and get himself killed." Caroline nodded. Still neutral as to what she even wanted in the first place, she accepted the situation for what it was. John had nearly been killed. Leaving his wife, the gang's resident whore, with his two young children left susceptible to fate and the elements of nature.

She forced herself to take a step in his direction, making her way towards the cot against the other wall. She stood over the unconscious body of her father, inspecting him with a less than pleased expression. He appeared dead, his grey button up shirt drenched with blood from a bullet hole. This was no foreign sight to her though, only a trigger of many scarring experiences during her stay with a notorious gang of Outlaws. When breaking the law, there were bound to be plenty of bullet wounds. Most of which were not properly cared for. It would probably be best to get a Doctor, but there was no chance of that considering the events having just taken place.

A moaning noise escaped the lips of the unconscious man, startling Caroline to jump. Abigail rushed over to pull her back, a safe distance from the man. John sat up, groaning in pain from the bullet wound. His gaze fell to inspect his bloody shirt. Discontent filled his eyes, as if he had hoped all of today's events were just a dream. He lifted his eyes to see his family, his true family. Former discontent evolved into sorrow as he observed his daughter's terrified expression,

"Jack, Caroline… I'm sorry you had to see this." The three of them stood in silence, too filled with shock and sorrow to come up with a response, "Jack…"

Jack walked past his mother and sister, to stand by the cot where his father laid. John placed his hand on the top of his son's head, "What would you say if your mother and I decided to take a… vacation from Dutch, Bill,…" Abigail shot him a look to avoid the use of the inappropriate word. Family. For they no longer would be considered as such. Caroline lifted her head to look at her mothers,

"What's a vacation?" Her voice spoke so innocently, so polite to her mother. Abigail brushed her dark hair out of her daughter's face,

"We're just goin' away for a while."

"Where?"

"We ain't exactly sure yet but…"

"Momma, you and Pa are actin' weird. What's goin on?"

"This is." John dropped his hand from his son's head, shifting his eyes to look to his small daughter, " We're gonna go start a farm some where, and there ain't gonna be any more shooting or hurting people. No more robbing, or cheating, or…"

"Other. Bad things." Abigail finished.

"Right. It's all over." John reached out to take the hand of his daughter. His eyes filled with genuine sympathy for the innocent girl, " Is that clear, Darlin?"

Caroline's expression had dramatically changed in the last few moments. Coming into the room, she had no idea that her wish was about to come true. There was to be no more hurting people. Her neutral and shocked face instantly turned to over joy at the thought of being able to leave such a horrible life. She threw herself to hug her father around the neck, completely forgetting his wound. He grunted, ignoring the fact of pain to pat his daughter on the back. Things were going to be different.


	4. Welcome to the Family

In case you haven't noticed by now, I like to skip around a lot. The events leading up to now weren't all that important anyways. The family left the gang, and John bought a plot of land on Beecher's Hope. Within a year the family was able to build a ranch and finally discover a place they could call their permanent home. This is where the story takes off, only two years before the beginning of the game's main story line.

October 1909

The young girl lazily leaned against the fence post in the mid day sun. Not much had happened in the last few days, and was not fruitful with her greetings. A mere hello or how are you was the extent of her human contact. She weaved her dark hair through her fingers, playing with her braid tied together at the bottom with the yellow ribbons she had been so thrilled to receive. Still, some hair fell through to form bangs across her forehead. Her skin was pale, but burnt on the cheeks with many freckles caused by long hours in the sun.

To her left, Jack stood vigorously pumping water into a bucket with all of his strength. For the past few weeks he had been trying his best to, well she wasn't quite sure other than the fact that he wanted to seem grown up. Maybe he was trying to prove himself, and working hard was his way of showing it.

"Why're you just standing there? Go away." He rudely commented, only slightly bobbing his head to his right,

"I'm bored."

"Then go do something, you're being annoying."

"Like what?" She snipped back in a whiny voice,

"Make yourself useful, go feed the horses, I don't know. Just not here." He hated to be so snippy, but lately he had begun to find his sisters presence only a hassle. All she wished to do was play and be a child, and Jack wanted to feel useful. She was only holding him back, and while he at times would long for company, now was not the time.

"I can't do any of those things!"

"Well aren't you worthless?"

"Am not! Stop acting like your so darn smart 'cause your not!" She folded her arms, sticking her tongue out at him. He was beginning to act so above-it-all lately in his attempt to be mature, and it was only hindering her temper. Jack ignored her comment, and went back to convincing her to leave,

"I'm not in the mood, Cara. Why don't you just go help Ma or something?"

"She told me to bother you instead."

"Go away."

"C'mon, Jack, can't I help?"

"No." She scrunched her eyebrows together, glaring at the back of her brother. She attempted to send telepathic daggers, but it seemed to fail. This rude Jack was beginning to get on her nerves. With one easy movement, she dropped her braids, placed her hands on his back, and shoved him into the horses water feed. He fell face first into the freshly pumped water and instantly became soaked. Caroline laughed triumphantly, brushing her hands off on her pale blue skirt. She stepped away, leaving, swaying her hips as she made her way to the house.

It was another boring day in the life of a very young girl. Her families farm was finally finished, and their life had finally achieved some level of normality from the point of view of many regular people in a very regular world. The last of the barn's roof had been laid only weeks before her 9th birthday, and so far she was not exactly enjoying the peace. Part of her missed her family members, and part of her wondered exactly why they had left so abruptly. She recalled some talk about both Uncle Dutch and Bill going crazy. Also being told that they had just left. It was something she doubted she would ever understand, but by whatever means she was going to be stuck in this new lifestyle she had never experienced before. And it seemed as though it would be a lot less thrilling.

A knocking noise sounded after each pole was struck by the wooden stick. Caroline dragged a small branch across the porch's small fence that lined the house. She sighed out of boredom, falling to sit against the house. The sun shone bright against her eyes, she lifted a hand to block the sun. Why did it have to be so bright? She wouldn't have minded much if there was something to distract her from the blazing heat.

"Caroline?" A deep voice alarmed her, she popped her head up to observe her father standing to her left. She turned her head back to the ground, hugging her knees,

"Hi there, Papa."

"What're you doin all alone over here?"

"Bored, I guess." She turned her head away, inspecting a few patches of grass with a weak gaze. Her voice was mellow, almost solemn in tone as she blended the words together. She had been avoiding her father for a while now at an attempt at growing apart. Ever since her childhood, she had never been that close to John. For some reason it didn't bother her when her 'Uncles' murdered, but her own father participating also seemed to scar her,

"Well,… sitting around the house don't seem to be very productive. I'm about to head over to Black Water, why don't you join me?"

"Can we see the puppies." Her face lit up at the hope of cuddling a soft and furry puppy. John took off his hat, running his fingers through is hair in thought.

"Why not." He motioned for her to follow.

John whistled for the horses. After mounting, both started for Black Water.

"Hey, Papa, what's an m-o-v-i-e?" Caroline pointed towards the large sign over the theatre displaying the name _Movie Theatre,_

"It's a picture that, well, moves." She dashed ahead to point to another sign,

"What's that say?"

"Tailor, where you get your clothes."

"What's that-."

"Christ sake, Caroline, you act like you've never seen a town before."

"You never take me or Jack out much, Pa."

She seemed so amazed to be in a city after almost a year. The town was not much, but to a small town girl who's never had a permanent home it seemed pretty amazing. She twirled on the sidewalk, almost bumping into a passerby. She cupped her hands over her mouth as she nearly fell into him and gasped. John laughed at the foolish young girl, messing her hair up with one hand,

"Sorry!" She whispered to the now distant man.

The young girl's attention was soon stolen by the sound of small whimpers. A light gasp escaped her lips as she ran for a store window, a place frequently visited by her on every trip she had to the town. She pressed her nose against the glass to see 4 small puppies wrestling and barking on display behind the window. Window shopping, a woman's pastime.

The puppies appeared at least 8 weeks old, leaving them very tiny in stature and size. Labrador puppies no doubt. There were two black, one brown, and another yellow. Caroline's eye was caught by the most rambunctious of the 4. It was light in color, and appeared very friendly. He threw himself against the glass towards the girl, barking in delight as he scratched at the glass. Caroline giggled, sharply turning her head back to her father still pointing at the glass,

" Hey Papa, can I go see im'?" The man sighed as he diverted his vision to the opposite side of the road. The last thing he wanted to do was bring home another animal to take care of, what would Abigail say. Worst, what would she do?

She stared at him with sparkling innocent eyes, practically begging to hold the fury bundles of joy. The man sighed, opening the door and motioned for her to step in the store.

Caroline busted through the door, allowing her tiny feet to carry her across the wooden floor releasing thumps. She held the jolly puppy tightly to her chest, the young thing squirming to be released from her grasp,

"Jack, Jack look what I got!" She dashed down the hall entering his room,

"What is it-, awh no way!" The dog instantly jumped out of her arms, bobbing it's head as it chased after Jack, " You got a puppy?"

"A huh!" It threw it's jaw to the floor and quick to begin gnawing at the carpet, "Let's name her Sarah!" She fell to the ground beside it, picking it up to hug in her arms,

"Uh…I think it's a boy. Don't as why I just know." She scratched the skull of the energetic animal, quick to giggle at the kisses she received from it, "How 'bout Rufus?" Jack suggested,

"Alright, Rufus!"

John found himself sneaking into the house. He was almost careful to avoid Abigail after the grand entrance of Caroline as she proclaimed to the world what would become the new family member, or load of work. Not long after making himself comfortable by the hearth's fire did he find himself ready to be interrogated by this beloved wife,

"So, John." Abigail began. She laid her hand on the back of the chair where John sat, "Were you planning on bringing home this little 'bundle of joy', or was it just an impulse buy? Or better yet, what was going through your head the moment you decided to leave and come home with another animal." She scolded him,

"It ain't all bad, Darlin. A dog can be… very useful with huntin purposes."

"You were doin' fine before, what makes you need one now?"

"I didn't have a choice. You shoulda seen the look on Caroline's face when she saw the thing."

"So this predicament was caused by your need to please? Is sayin no all that hard?"

"Abigail, please. Like I said it ain't that bad. It's just a dog." She inspected him with her dagger eyes. With one hand she shooed him as she headed off back to the kitchen,

"Well if you think I'm gonna be the one tendin to it, you got another thing comin, John Marston." The cries of laughter and joy were clearly heard from the other room, bringing smile to the mans face. In the end, he had been able to please his children and that was all that mattered to the Outlaw gone family man.


	5. You're just a Kid

_**Sorry for the delay everyone! I kept wanting to add to it, but it seemed to be pretty much finished for this chapter. If not well… I can always add on later. But I was sick of not posting anything. Well enjoy anyways! **__**J**_

_**Summer, 1909**_

_**The sun enveloped the Ranch that day, shining it's rays of warmth to beat against the dirt paths and the dieing grass of the Western prairie. The sound of insects filled the air with signs of life and pestilence with their songs and chirps. It felt so full and busy under the clear blue sky with no cloud in sight for miles. It was the kind of Sky you could find yourself staring off into for hours wondering where it would ever end.**_

_**A light gust of wind blew the fallen strands of hair from the face of a young girl near 9 years of age. Her hair was a dark brown that would blend in with the bark of a tree in it's shade, her eyes nearly matching as they shimmered in the day's sun. Her hair was fashioned into two separate lazy braids that laid at her shoulders. She sat near the barn, leaning against the wooden outer wall with her knees slightly bent. **_

_**The girl's gaze fell to the dirt path beside her that led into the building. It showed footprints from earlier in the day. As she continued to observe the simple walk way, she extended a hand an began to draw with her finger. A house, a tree, and other random lines. Before long her whole hand was soiled with dirt. She lifted it to stare with discontent at her mess,**_

"_**What're ya doin playin in the dirt?" Her head snapped up to see her older brother's confused stare. Embarrassed, she hastily whipped her hands off on her copper colored blouse,**_

"_**Nothin…" She mumbled under her breath. The boy had already started into the barn without acknowledging the girl's response. Within the moment he had came out with a rope in hand. The girl stared with much confusion at the tool, struggling to her feet as she followed her brother, " What's the rope for?"**_

"_**Nothin you needs to be concerned with."**_

"_**Aw c'mon, Jack, what's it for?" She stumbled after him as he fast approached the hitched up horses. He made a sharp turn around, bending over slightly to whisper at the girl,**_

"_**Promise not to tell?"**_

"_**Yeah."**_

"_**You see those horses over yonder?" The boy pointed to the distance, past the hills where there was nothing unless you looked for something, "I'm gonna go get one." With that the boy mounted his own Hazel brown Horse,**_

"_**Jack, that don't seem all to safe… and we ain't allowed to-" The boy reigned his horse back to face his sister with a less than pleased look,**_

"_**Since when has you ever cared 'bout what's safe and not? That coming from the girl who got me a weeks beatin for convincin me to shoot Pa's gun when nobody's was lookin. You've gone soft, Caroline." The girl firmly placed her hands on her hips, scrunching her face at her brother's scolding,**_

"_**I'm comin' too."**_

"_**No you ain't." The girl had already mounted her own painted horse and started down the path, "Uh… fine but you best not slow me down."**_

"_**You sures you knows how to do this?" The two brought their horses to a halt, both siblings staring off into the group of wild horse. Jack started off first, Caroline trotting behind,**_

"_**Yeah, now just watch'n learn!" He took off into the herd, cutting through the group to find the best one to rope. From a distance Caroline observed her brother as he roped his first horse from atop her own.**_

_**He whipped the rope out and began swinging it in the air. Before only he had tossed the loop around the neck of one of the group's silver Mares. It appeared normal, and only as feisty as a normal horse would be prior to broken as the young girl thought.**_

_**The breaking did not go as expected though, and within moments the boy was flung off the back of the horse and onto the hard ground. It was relentless, and took off towards the scattered group,**_

"_**Jack!" Caroline started towards her fallen brother. She quickly dismounted when near him an rushed to his side, extending a hand to help the boy up. He took the offer, struggling back to his feet. He grunted as he shifted weight to his left leg, "Jack what's wrong?" She panicked,**_

"_**It's nothin, I'm fine. Just-" He stopped, his gaze caught in the distance as his body became paralyzed,**_

"_**Wha, What is it?" She turned around to see what his attention was caught by. Their lips both mouthed the same words 'Oh No'.**_

"_**Jack! Caroline!" They heard the voice of their father in the distance.**_

_**When the man arrived near the two, he dismounted and approached them, **_

"_**What do you think you're doin out here!" Jack nervously allowed his gaze to wander away from John's, "Answer me!"**_

"_**We was breakin horses." Caroline spoke innocently,**_

"_**You both? Or just Jack?" Jack spoke up,**_

"_**Just me, sir." He grunted in pain from his leg, angering John more,**_

"_**What did you think you were doin'? Goin off all alone, and with your sister? Do you know what coulda happened!"**_

"_**I'm sorry Papa." Tears began to form under the girl's eyes,**_

"_**It ain't your fault, Darlin. Jack should've best kept you home."**_

"_**It's always my fault! All I wanted to do was make you proud Pa and all I do is get blamed around here!"**_

"_**You're just a kid, what made ya think you could break a horse? Especially bringin' your sister? Do you know what coulda happened?"**_

"_**I'll be 14 in a month, I ain't a kid anymore!" Silence followed, John stared emotionless at his son obviously showing his disapproval while Caroline lightly sobbed next to him,**_

"_**Until you stop makin' foolish choices, I disagree. Get on your horse both of you, We're going home."**_


	6. Growin Up

Spring 1910

It was unknown of the exact date of Caroline's birth, during this time days weren't always that important. They only knew that it was a warm day in spring, and of the horrid experience of childbirth with minimal medical interference. Because of this, Abigail and John had given her a date. April 26th, they decided one year, her given birthday. It was a Sunday, and before the week was over there would be a catastrophe within the Marston family.

Jack entered the kitchen where his mother was preparing the birthday dinner for the young girl. He took a seat next to Caroline at the table, giving her a light shove like a brother to a sister. He rolled his eyes at the young girl as she stuck her tongue out at him,

"Hey Ma, what's for dinner?"

"Roast leg of lamb, caviar, and other luxuries from the far corners of the earth."

"Stew?"

"As always."

Caroline played with one of her black braids, twirling it between her fingers. Suddenly her face lit up with joy, an idea or more of an remembrance had entered her head. Frantically, she began tugging on Jack's sleeve and yelling into his ear,

"Hey Jack! Guess what!"

"What Caroline…"

"Guess how old I am today!" Trying not to offend his sister with his obvious lack of caring, he amused her with a response,

"How old?"

"Ten! Do you remember what ya said you'd do when I was ten?" His gaze went blank as he stared at the wall, lifting his head from his palm. Caroline, eagerly clasped onto his shirt, couldn't contain herself any longer before blurting out the answer,

"You said you'd teach me to read! You remember now dontcha? The constellations!"

"Oh right,… ah I don't know Caroline, you could ask Pa…"

"No, you said you would! You can't break a promise." The girl complained,

"That was a long time ago."

"Jack!" She whimpered, loosening her grip. The 14 year old boy groaned, he was nearing adulthood, and Caroline was still a child. Inside he almost felt a duty to his much younger sister, so he complied,

"Fine, we'll start tomorrow…" A grin instantly was painted across her face as she thanked him time and time over and over again for minutes. Such innocence, Jack looked at his sister.

Today she would be ten, and she probably wouldn't be this way for long. It had been a few years since their parents had brought them out from under the influence of the gang. When they had left, she was always morose, quiet, filled with resentment for her father. Nothing like the way a person so filled with youth and imagination should be subject to. It was as if she had reverted back to an earlier childhood recently. He smiled at her, glad for the first time in what seemed like forever to a child.

As Abigail finally finished the cooking of her 'poison', she called John in from the other room. Minutes later, the family were settled with their meal. If you'd call it that. Jack laughed at the face Caroline made when asked how their food was, pointing to her open mouth when their mother wasn't looking.

"Grow up, Jack." John shot him a look from across the table. Jack frowned, excusing himself from the room in a huff. Caroline's eyes looked up to him, her head still bobbing to the ground. Without much thought, other than the obvious discontent with her father, she went back to twirling her fingers in her hands.

"So Darlin, have you finished 'thinking about it' yet?"

"I don't want that man around my children, John." Abigail protested to the long continued argument. John had been bringing up the idea of finding a farm hand for weeks now, and Abigail had been firmly holding her ground in not letting her husbands drinking buddy around their home.

"That man is harmless, you really think I'd consider hirin the fool if he'd put _our_ children in danger?" She didn't respond, only getting up to take some dishes to the sink. She wasn't thrilled about the idea of hiring a farmhand, especially the man John had in mind. But it was true that they needed help, and he was the cheapest they could find, "We need the help, Abigail. Just last week we had ten of our cattle stolen durin' the night."

"I know that!" She protested. Caroline slumped down into her chair at her mother's raised voice. Abigail sighed, having had no choice but to agree, " If you trust this drinking buddy of yours, then fine. Hire Uncle in one month."

The girl swung her feet in her chair, gluing her eyes to the floor board. The seated father inspected his daughter, only just now remembering the occasion, "It's your birthday, ain't it Caroline."

"Yup."

"You're… ten aren't you."

"Yeah."

"You're growin up…" The conversation was slightly awkward, for she barely responded. His eyes fell to the floor with hers. He thought for a moment, before coming up with an idea,

"How about we go on a ride, Darlin. Like we used to do when you were smaller." She lifted her small dark eyes to her father, a small smile formed on her lips as she nodded in agreement.

"I'm afraid we can't be doin this for much longer, Caroline, you're gettin' big." The girl sat in front of her father on the saddle, much like she did when she was younger.

One of the first memories of a ride with her father was when she was only 3. She remembered the handle being the size of her hand. Desperately grasping onto the leather horn as to not fall off the fast moving animal. It had been 7 years, and she was now capable of riding her own horse. And even though she had held a grudge with her father for the longest time, she felt that this was their time. She could always forget it when it was just them in the open prairie.

"Pa, my arm is aching." The girl complained,

"You probably sprained it beatin on your brother."

"It's been hurtin' forever… and my whole body too. I think I'm gettin' sick."

" It's probably a cold, you'll live." He didn't think much of it, but he couldn't help but feel concern for the girl. His daughter. A parent always has a tendency to think of the worst as a reality.

"Hey look over there, Pa! The suns settin." She pointed into the distance where it seemed an array of orange and pink had painted the once blue canvas into a beautiful sight.

"That it is."

"It's so beautiful." He rode up to the edge of the path, where they sat for minutes. Light gusts of wind nearly blew John's hat off, and caused Caroline's braids to whip from side to side. The tall grasses of the prairie danced in the winds under the scenic setting of the bright star in the sky as the father and daughter peered into the distance

For a while, the moment in time felt still. The setting sun caused her pale pink dress to glow in the orange light. Her sun burnt forehead squished as she gazed into the weather carved rolling hills. She looked up to her father. The rustic man followed her gaze into the fields. His dark hair flung loosely in the wind under his black western styled hat. Their skins were nearly identical in color, but his had been clearly worked into a leathery texture. Her father's scar, and his sloppily shaved stubble were his trademarks in her mind. For a near middle aged man, he sure seemed more tainted than the rest,

"Hey Pa…"

"Yeah, Caroline?"

"What's heaven like?" She questioned.

There was a silence for a moment. The winds continued to blow as the man thought how to answer such a question. He had thought of it much before, but knowing his own past he never believed he would ever get to experience it in his afterlife. But for her, he wanted nothing less than a life that resembled it. He placed a hand on her head, feeling the innocent girl breath. After contemplating a response, he answered,

"A place like this, Caroline." He sighed, "But you won't have to worry about that for a long time."


	7. She's a Fighter

On an April day in West Elizabeth, the sat a small ranch by the name of Beecher's Hope. There housed a family of four, a Mother, a Father, a Sister, and a Brother. For only a year they seemed to live in what was the closest to peace and harmony they could reach. The sun was blazing and bugs were chirping. It was a lively fall day.

Maybe a mile off there sounded the pats of small feet against the warm dirt road. They were the feet of a newly ten year old girl, Caroline. She wore a navy almost jean like dress that came down to her soiled knees with black laced up boots. Her thick dark hair had been fashioned that morning into a due created by her mother. It was now shorter above her shoulders with bangs. In it she wore a new red ribbon, a gift from her father for her tenth birthday.

She had left Beecher's Hope that morning in search of water for the family's meal. It was unclear to even herself why she now refused to use the water pump conveniently located at the ranch, but to her it seemed more of an adventure to seek it elsewhere. She had found a small stream down the way where she had retrieved her water for the past few days. She swung a wooden pale in her tiny arm, just carefully enough in such a science not to pour any onto the prairie soil.

Minutes later she arrived back at the ranch. The innocent child was headed towards the door with such an oblivious outlook onto what was about to happen. Suddenly, she dropped the pale. Her eye's grew wide as she fell to her knees. Without warning she clenched at her stomach, vomiting an immense amount onto the ground in front of her. It was violent, and did not continue long without becoming noticed by someone,

"Cara!" The girl felt a hand on her shoulder, it was that of her older brother, Jack, "Cara, good lord, what's wrong?" A look of terror, then soon panic swept across his face, "Momma! Momma you better get out here!" the boy towards the ranch house.

The door soon slammed open as the children's mother stepped out. At first, annoyed and questionable as to what the problem was, her expression soon matched that of her son as they observed the sick child,

"Child, what devil's spell has gotten into you?" The girl gradually came to a stop, but soon tears followed as she began to sob. All the mother and son could do was stand in shock, she leaned in, pointing to the bucket, "Caroline where did you get this?"

"It's", sobs separated the girl's words, "It's water."

"Where did you get the water?" She didn't respond, for lack of strength and fear of being scolded.

"Momma what do you thinks wrong with her?" The boy asked with a concerned voice for his sister. The mother answered frantically with a strained and annoyed tone,

"I don't know, Jack! Do I look like I have an answer?" She scolded him, but soon she regained her calm composure. She responded with a sigh, "It's probably bad water… Jack, go get Pa. We'll get him to take her into town."

"Can I go?"

"I don't care!" She snapped back, turning around to go find John.

5 hours later

"A case of Cholera, Mr. Marston." The doctor shuffled through his papers on his desk, placing them in random folders frantically trying to find something, " A disease that causes frequent vomiting, dyharria, dehydration…" He rambled on and on…

In the corner of the room was a single metal framed bed with a simple mattress. On it laid the sickly girl. In mere hours she seemed to vomit up twice her body's weight. Herself turned from a red lively child into a walking corpse. Her eye's grew sunken, her hands white and clammy. Cholera was known as a disease to take it's victims in a matter of hours.

Through it all she slept, or at least tried to. Her cheeks were stained from tears and her head grew dizzy from frequent movements to lean over the bed to vomit into a full bucket. All the while, John watched in silent agony from the entrance to the small office.

" It's causes are somewhat unknown, but it's thought to be from contaminated…"

"Is she going to recover?" The man stood up straight, adjusting his black bowler hat,

"Well, unfortunately, there's no absolute way of assuring that she will infact…" The man paused, running his fingers through his slick black hair, "There's no known cure."

John peered through the dark room to look at the man. A look of almost disgust. He took a step inward as he seemed to intimidate the man,

" You mean to tell me that there's nothing you can do? Here my daughter is, dying, and you look me in the eye and tell me she's bound to death? What am I paying you for?"

"There is no cure, Mr. Marston." The clinic leaned over his desk to reassure his statement in a more assertive tone. John's voice dipped down to a quieter volume, almost appearing calm if you weren't to hear his actual words,

"I think I have a bullet in my gun that says otherwise." The man's eyes widened, quickly he stood up and turned back over to observe the girl. He turned his head back for only a moment as he walked towards her with a less than pleased attitude,

"I'll see what I can do."

With that John turned to leave the building. It was about nine at night, the sun had set and the only light to see your surroundings came from light posts located in the streets. You could hear the crickets, and it was quite cool compared to the day. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it ever so slowly. He shook out the flame as he took a drag.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack, leaning against the door frame. Even in the dim lighting, his despair was still visible in his eyes. His head bobbed limp, only attached by his weak neck. As he heard his father step out into the open, he lifted his head half way but still refused to look at him,

"Pa."

"Yeah?" He turned to look at his son,

"Is Caroline dying?", He took another drag, turning his head to look away,

"You were listening weren't you?" Jack's head fell limp once more,

"I've read a book once, about this whole Cholera disease… it's rare for anyone who's had it to survive." Both's eyes were glued to the ground, each of them refusing to accept the reality of the situation. John chose to ignore it,

"She'll be fine. She's a fighter."


	8. I Pray the Lord my Soul to Take

_Now I lay me down to sleep_

_I pray the lord my soul to keep  
_

"Sometimes I wonder what's going through your head, John. Especially when you think it's an alright idea to let your **daughter **leave the ranch on her own? What were you thinking?"

"Nothin happened the times she's left before. What's the worst that coulda happened?"

"Oh I don't know, bears, bandits, storms… must I go on? The point is now Cara's sick and we don't know what's wrong with her."

"I didn't think you were such a worry wart, Abigail, you're proving me wrong."

"Shut your trap, since when has worrying become a sin."

"It's because there ain't a reason to. She's-"

"She's a Marston."

The young girl rose her torso from the flat bed. Slight dizziness set her back, but she fought the innermost desire to collapse back onto the mattress. She wished to lay like a pathetic bundle upon the bed which provided minimal comfort, but it was difficult after hearing the mumbles from the kitchen.

Rays of light shone through her window to brighten her half-finished room. Her eyes squinted to inspect the floorboards below her. The words spoken across the hall were nothing but babbles and jibberish to her soft-spoken ears. Her unclear thoughts but a blur through her sick mind. She lifted a palm to her ratted hair, fingering a certain knot in her dark brown hair.

Her memory of yesterday had faded. All she could remember was collapsing in her front yard and dropping her retrieved water from a small pond she had found. Her simple-minded self could not have made the connection between her water and the sickness. She turned her weak neck to inspect the room some more. Below her rested a full bucket which she had not recalled being there, but clearly had been before. At the sight, a sudden urge to vomit overwhelmed her and she aimed towards the full bucket.

The atrocious sound was enough to attract the attention of both parents who formerly resided in the kitchen. Abigail flew down the hallway and into her daughter's room. She desperately tried to aid the situation, holding back her daughter's hair. Light sobs escaped the girl's throat as she finished,

"You're fine Caroline… it'll pass." She continued to preach false facts. The worst has passed, you'll be better in a day… all the while she refused to accept the fate of which was Cholera.

* * *

**5 hours later**

* * *

The smoke from the oven fumed overhead it's surface bringing scents of meat, broth, and vegetables with it. Rolling clouds of the fumes were seen tumbling out the window into the thick Texas air. A familiar wooden spoon stirred the contents of the heated pot in the same fashion it always had been. Always stirring, always the same meal prepared.

Admits the smoke and fumed stood the common cook Abigail. Her face remained stern, salty tears stained her face. Each tear flowed down her cheeks like a river that released unto her blue blouse resembling it's own ocean. It was well stained, though the minutes she spent sobbing numbered the same amount of minutes she had spent cooking.

Her mind was full of worry, her heart was heavy with sorrow. Any normal disease she wouldn't have been nearly as tedious about. Cholera was known to be a killer's disease, for very few were known to survive it. It took her best efforts to believe her husband in that her daughter would be alright, but it was so hard to find reassurance in someone who had as much a clue as she had of their child's safety.

She had already lost so much. She, having never had a family of her own, had grown quite attached to her children. The mere idea of losing one put her in a fit of tears, which is where she had been in the past hours. She lifted a pot holder to her mouth, tightly closing her eyes as to cry into it.

"Ma?" She lifted her chin to see Jack standing in the doorway. His expression a mix of confusion and hurt having most likely seen his mother's state. Abigail placed the rag on the table beside her, trying to regain some composure,

"What is it, Jack?"

"What are you crying about?"

"I'm not- where would you get an idea like that?" Her voice sounded flustered and frustrated at the same time, as if to tell him it was none of his business.

"It's about Caroline isn't it? You and Pa seem too upset for it to be lookin good."

"She's fine Jack. You know me, I just overreact some times." Jack entered the room, taking a seat at the table. He never looked at his mother, only gazing out the window,

"She's dying isn't she?"

"Jack Marston! What in Sam's hell would give you that idea?"

"I'm not stupid, Ma. I can see it in your eyes, you and Pa's. She ain't gonna make it till tomorrow morning." She didn't have a response for that. Only a slamming of his bowl on the table sent him the message to eat and get out, "… I'm sorry, Ma. I just don't want to think about her being well, gone."

"Then don't." Jack stared down at his bowl. Stew again, even so he dutifully began to shovel it into his mouth. Moments of silence followed, and as he ate he also thought. Thinking of the right way to word it, he prodded, "Do you believe in heaven?"

"What?"

"Heaven… if Caroline died, do you think she'd go to a place like it?" She stared down, an instant gloom cascaded across her face. After living so much, it had become hard for her to even believe in some deity from above. Until he was older, she would lie,

"Of course. But enough talk, eat."

After eating, Jack stood. Leaving his dirtied plate on the table for his mother to clean later, but after receiving a look from Abigail he found himself placing it into the sink himself. At the moment, all he could think about was Caroline. He passed her room on his way outside finding himself peering through the cracked door. The girl gazed out the window, her eyes sunken and skin pale as snow. A sudden pain entered his expression, he looked to the ground as he walked out the rickety door. But as he exited the house, he paused, thinking. A certain promise re-entered his mind, he felt that now was the time to fulfill it. A perfectly timed moment passed as John proceeded to walk right in front of his son. Jack lifted a hand to get his attention,

"Hey Pa, could we make a visit to town?" John stopped, turning to face him. He stood with his hands half in his pockets. Leaning back with an amused look, he responded,

"What business do you have there?"

"I-I'd like to get a book, Sir."

* * *

He inhaled deeply before pushing open the wooden door, as if to hold his breath as to not catch any sickness in the air. Caroline remained in the same position she had been in all day he found, but even so he approached her with a fake expression of an upbeat tone as he greeted her on her bed,

"Evening." What came next amazed him. A weak smile formed on her lips, she found the strength to sit up,

"Aren't you actin nicer than expected. What's gotten into you?" Each word sounded forced. It took obvious effort to speak through her dried lips.

"Nothing." His gaze quickly turned more solemn, but a weak smile to match hers stayed on his lips, "Nothing." He repeated.

In his lap he nervously pounded his fingers on the hard cover of something. Fidgeting, he tapped away as if to mimic a tune. He gripped the sides finally as to regain confidence in his being there,

"Did you still want to learn to read, Cara?" Through the sickened face, the girl's face seemed to change drastically. Almost to the point where you couldn't tell her internal condition, aside from the sunken eyes and wrinkled hands. Her grin of excitement could light up a night's sky,

"More than anything!" Her eyes soon shifted to the book resting in his grasp, "Are you going to teach me?"

"I promised didn't I?" He lifted the book from his lap, revealing the title on it's spine, "It's one on stargazing and stories. Like the one's I used to tell you when we were younger."

With that, he opened to the first page. He skimmed the sentences to find one easy enough for a beginner. Once found, he shared it with her, "You see this is the letter U. It makes two different sounds 'cause it's a vowel."

"A vowel?"

"A E I O and U…" He proceeded to teach her the different letters. It didn't take long for her to catch on, and quickly she began to absorb the different sounds like a sponge. It was quite impressive to Jack, how she had learned in mere minutes which would take him days. It almost made him jealous… almost, "Now if you put 2 letters together, they make a sound. For instance this U and R sound like…"

"Ur."

"Then this S A…"

"Ursa?"

"Yeah, Ursa…"

"Mi…n…or. Ursa Meenor?"

"Ursa Minor, Yeah. The bear in the sky, remember?" She grinned as the memories came flowing back.

The two continued to read for minutes upon minutes, it took almost up to an hour. It was amazing how fast she had caught on, and it wasn't until then Jack realized how bright her sister actually was. He found himself gazing in amazement as he watched his sister quickly reading full words.

Mid sentence, she looked up at her brother,

"Jack?"

"Yeah Cara?"

"Do you think I'd make a good teacher?"

"Maybe." She smiled down at the book,

"I think I wanna teach when I'm older. You know, like those women in them school houses." His gaze fell to the book as well. The corner's of his mouth fell. He tried not to think past today, taking her recovery one step at a time and not making any assumptions about her future,

"Someday, maybe."

The sun soon fell from the Marston ranch. No longer did the sun's rays of light peek through the glass windows into it's rooms. No longer did safety seem secured in it's surroundings, whether internal or external dangers. Soon, Caroline's eyes fell with the sun as she drifted into a deep slumber. Jack closed his book, standing up to leave the room. As he left, he bumped into his father for the second time that day. He apologized, before heading to his room.

John strolled into his daughter's room, stepping quietly in his cowboy styled boots as to not wake her. He took short steps, softly landing his feet against the newly laid floorboards. Through the moon's reflection, he saw the dark hair of his daughter glimmer in it's dim light. He sat on the end on the bed, waking the girl,

"Pa? That you?" He chuckled,

"'Course Darlin, just wanted to say goodnight." It was only a white lie… he truly had come to say that. But his driving force to wake her was more filled with worry,

"Thank you… Goodnight." He leaned in to kiss his daughter's head, then stood up to leave. Just as he reached the doorway, she continued, "Love you." The weak murmur was heard so clearly through the quiet night. No matter how foreign the words sounded coming out of his own mouth, he responded with a heartfelt tone.

"I love you too."

_If I shall die before I wake_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take..._


	9. A Shadow Cast Across Beecher's Hope

Outside the house, and even on it's inside, the atmosphere remained silent. No birds chirped their daily tune that one might tap their foot to. No bugs made sounds that one's ears had grown accustomed to hearing. No rays of light shone through the foggy clouds that lie above like a thick wooly blanket. A gloom like none other possessed the Marston Ranch that day, and it had to have been by the sole reason expected.

A woman in a pink nightgown took soft steps across the hallway's floorboards that led down the long hallway. With each passing step she grew closer to her destination, which for some reason made her feel uneasy. The same pathway she took multiple times a day for years this time brought an unnerving anxiety to her heart.

Her feet flew gracefully across the ground below her, barley creaking at the wooden panels, until she found herself at the long awaited door. Any unexplained worry or inclining of a mother's intuition she attempted to clear her mind of. It was that, that brought about her uneasy mind. Taking a breath to relieve the nervous tension, She gently took the door's brass knob in her palm before pushing it open. She poked her head through the door, dimly seeing through. The young girl, her daughter, seemed fast asleep with her head nestled into her limply stuffed pillow. The woman cautiously proceeded inwards.

A fowl stench filled the air, causing the woman to be taken back. She cupped her hands over her nose and mouth in an attempt to shield herself from the horrid smell. Either way, she continued to nudge the girl's shoulder,

"Caroline?" She spoke in her softest voice possible, as to not abruptly wake her. The source of the smell provided confusion with a rebirth of nervous worrying, "Sweet Caroline, it's morning." no response. She smiled, "Now now, sweetheart, it's time to get up. Stayin lazy won't get you through the day."

She strolled over to the curtains and pulled them open. No light shone through the glass panes only revealing more clouds than hoped for, "What a shame." She sighed. She had hoped for a ray of light to shed hope or at least bring comfort to her fast beating heart. To be enveloped in it's warm embrace, and given hope for a brand new day.

Once again she turned over to the bed, shaking her daughter once more,

"I said get up, Caroline." She nudged, "…Caroline." She lifted her covers away to reveal sheets stained with brown waste. Once again she let out a cry of disgust, wiping her neck to the side as to avoid the sight. Diarrhea covered the bed in which Caroline slept, during the night she must had done it. It must have been the source of the stench. Horror filled her widened eyes. The "mother's intuition" proved true as her fears were realized.

The thin mattress held the body of her daughter. Caroline laid limp, her skin and eyes clearly sunken. With each passing nudge she held no resistance, but when touched she felt chilled to the bone. Her hair a tattered mess, it was obvious from her body's state that she was gone. Abigail felt the cold cheek of her daughter, bringing tears to her eyes, she took a step away. She called out in horror and distress,

"John!"

* * *

A boy was woken from the other room minutes later. The commotion caused by the mother of both the sister and brother brought about such a thick atmosphere that it could wake the sleeping boy. He tossed and turned, eventually sitting up and rubbing away the crust from his eyes. The vibes of pain and sorrow must had radiated from the others for a sudden wave of melancholy and doubt for the day over came him.

On his floor slept his yellow lab. Throughout the night he had been pacing the floor. Jack only remembered losing minutes upon hours of sleep listening to the patters of his claws upon the wooden floor the night before. Now Rufus laid down with his eyes open and his tale tapping a slow and constant beat,

"If it's not the incessant walking it's that damned tail!" He complained to himself. It gave him an odd feeling, although. He stood to proceed out of his room.

Walking through the halls, a stench soon filled his nostrils with the smell of waste. He coughed, confused as to where it came from. As he neared his sister's room, he was shoved out of the way by his father. John stood tall, no expression lit his face. Jack saw glimpses of what he carried out of the room.

In his arms he held something quite large. It was too big to be insignificant, for he required two arms to carry it and it seemed to wrap around and down his arms. One side longer than the other. Something lay limp, with white sheets to cover it. Whatever it was, when it passed by him the smell followed intently. It smelled rotten, almost… dead?

His eyes widened, he took a step back as he rushed into the room. The grotesque scent caused his nostril to flail in disgust. As he entered, the sobbing Abigail exited, her face in her palms. It was near impossible to keep one's heart from breaking at the sight of a person in such distress. He saw the soiled bed, but refused to believe let alone accept the situations that played out in his head. Each ended in catastrophe.

The sight burned within his red, tear stained eyes. It was not from the salt in which his eyes burned, but the image he continued to stare at. Before him his father was burrying a piece of him, a piece of all of them.

They had dug a hole, five by three foot, just small enough to fit the once petite daughter of theirs. Digging such a grave became more intensive than any day's work, more painful than any year's sorrow. There he plopped the sheet covered corpse into the rectangular hole, where she was to rest. Probably the most painful part for the boy was watching his father dig his shovel into the prairie's soil and pour it onto his once beloved friend.

The boy let silent tears fall, as he clenched his jaw in pain. A sign of weakness was one trait he never which to perceived himself as having, with his need to feel more adult than he should. Even at this point, he failed to recognize that it's alright to remain a child at times, that one does not have to rush into adulthood. His attempts to shield himself from tears were futile, for soon he let out a sob which was quickly masked with tightly shut eyes and bearing teeth.

Having seen her son's pain match, if not more intensive to her's, she reached out her arms to comfort him. She brought him closer, allowing him to sob unto her chest. He was still just a boy, and too young to lose his only friend. Together the two tried to mask their tears, as John continued to finish the grave.

* * *

By noon it was finished. He stood back as to, not quite admire his work as that would not be a deed fitting to describe what emotion he felt. What they all felt looking at a grave that should not have to be there. Stones decorated the 3x5 grave, with a wooden cross engraved with a passage. Soon after, not able to bear admiring the loss, the family proceeded to the house to mourn.

All but Jack, who continued to stare. The events of that day had come as a shock to him. He had acknowledged that his sister was ill, but never to such an intensity that he saw death as a possibility. Even if he had grown to accept the potential fate, it wouldn't have changed anything. Either way he would have dealt with his own self pity the same way. The way one would deal with losing a sibling, a friend. He had only now come to realize that she was his best friend, and he has lost her. That day, he had lost his only friend.

A raindrop hit the cheek of the soul tattered boy. He brought his soiled fingers to touch the liquid as another drop fell on the back of his palm. He observed the rain on his hand as if he had never seen such a sight before. Soon rain began to fall harder, and harder. It moistened the grave and began to drench the boy. He lifted his arms at an attempt to keep his already wet self from becoming more soaked. Once he was thoroughly wet, he gave up, dropping his arms to his side. For a last time, he eyed the grave, as if to say his final goodbye.

* * *

Caroline was buried on a hill overlooking the Marston Ranch. That day she died April 29th, 1910, was engraved on her wooden cross. It also read, " If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." It was visited daily by every member of the family, until one August wind storm later that year. In that storm the ranch was once again left in such ruin that it had to be re-built almost from scratch, and unfortunately the grave marker was lost along with most of the ranch. The family never had the heart or strength to make a replacement for the grave in which they had forgotten where the body lay.

* * *

I thought the timing went pretty well, considering I started this back in November and she died around the time the story was finished.(Actually that's not true, I finished this story in April when I wrote this but it wouldn't upload the night I wrote it so I forgot to put it up… heh.) BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. I might consider putting up a few more chapters, of course them concerning either a ghost or undead Marston Daughter. ;)

Also, even before I began writing this story I've been developing plots for a very detailed and long JackxOC and a the origin of Javier Escuella. I'd like to know if anyone would be interested in reading any of these, both already have very developed plots and it's up to you guys which one I write down first. So please review and suggest, they make me very happy. :3


	10. When All is Said and Done

He would give anything for another way. The toil of the past few months must have been a futile cause, for the treacherous traitor ship of ingratitude brought about a great sacrifice more important than his former task. Now the shell of his essence laid in vein with a motionless heart. The heat of the incessant beating sun rotting the carcass soaked in a thick copper blood.

The fading memory of his last breath was all that was left as his soul departed from the living world. In his final days the hardened man had spent his last shred of skill on the act of stealing lives for the purpose of saving those he held dear. After the deed was done his promised freedom would be given, but not until that day had he realized what the true price would be.

Only that morning had life begun to feel as normal as it could. John was greeted by his stubborn wife's embrace before the sunrise. Despite the grudge that she held against him, he was grateful to find that she still cared. Or at least enough to look past his flaws for the sake of their son, who had been working in the barn later that day. How Jack resented him was a dark reality, but due to his efforts to become more of a fatherly figure the trust was nearly regained.

That was until the warning of the elder drunken man alerted the two with a grim sight on the hills. It wasn't a few mounted men, but what seemed to be a whole army rolling towards him. Realizing the sacrifice that must be made for his remaining family's safety, he sent them off before he could be greeted with his demise. The demise that came in the form of near a dozen lead bullets pelted into his flesh. His last sight being that of the heartless political man.

Ceasing of a beating heart was not his fated end. Although the incapability to move a human body was gained, it almost felt as if there was some sense of consciousness left in his mind. Gradually his sight regained as the shadow of a figure found himself with the ability to stand. A whispy hand? The man inspected his opaque arm that lagged a cloud like substance behind him as it moved. Such an existence became one of confusion. No longer did the needing habit of breathing possess him. No longer did the familiar beat move his chest in the way that he remembered.

The landscape around him remained same in surroundings, but faded in sight. A fog seemed to be evident in the distance, and the ranch was empty of life. But one thing remained in the faded scene which resembled that of a dream, his lifeless body that laid near the barn. This shocked him. As he took a step away, he could feel him absent self detach. A throbbing sensation pulsated through the consciousness of the ghost figure, causing a dizziness like none other to overcome him. Stumbling around trying to regain his step became an issue of inexperience. If this was death, wasn't he supposed to be free of ailment? He groaned, mumbling a question to himself in confusion,

"It's the fog, you get used to it." A tender voice was spoken clear through the cool haze. John turned to the sound in a fashion that gaze his apparition the gracefulness of a dazed drunk.

There his barn stood, the one he had built with his own two hands. Or at least in it's ghost like form. It appeared that if he were to touch it, the whole structure would topple or disappear like a cloud of vapor. His shadow eyes scanned the premises for the source of the voice,

"The hell…" A figure smaller than his withdrew from it's shelter behind the tall doors. It was a young girl dressed in a white cotton lace dress. Her hair, a familiar dark color that fell past her shoulders. She peeked her eyes from behind the wooden walls to see the man,

"Did I scare you?" She giggled at the man's clueless expression. All men and women who had recently passed possessed the same expression. Either from shock of the accident or confusion in their form, they all looked the same. It never ceased to amuse those who had taken their form long ago,

"Scared isn't the word I'd use." From what little he could see of the girl she appeared to be nearing the age of eleven, but still had an innocence to her eyes that was of a child's naivety, "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

"Come on out, let me get a better look."

The child stepped out into better view in the center of the barn doors. The man stood in front of her still dumbfounded as to both who this girl was and what was going on. She twirled in place as if to show off her flowing white gown. It was then, after the playful child displayed her demeanor, that he finally realized that this girl was his daughter,

"Caroline?" A huge grin found it's way onto her thin pink lips,

"Hiya Pa." The faded girl couldn't contain herself from wrapping her arms around the waste of her father.

The reunion was short lived, however, for soon enough the confusion resurfaced in the man's thoughts. He gingerly pried the arms of the girl from around him, kneeling to be slightly under her immediate sight range. Even in the passed life, she was still such a scrawny girl of petite size,

"Mind explaining where we are?"

"Yeah, Pa, we're at home." She spoke in a matter of fact tone, as if to question how right his head was. Her spunk hadn't escaped her, "But not the home that Ma and Jack are at, this is the home we come to after we die." She paused for a moment, her eyes falling to the ground as her expression faltered, "At least… that's what the strange man told me."

"A man? What man?"

John's eyebrows furrowed in an even deeper state of confusion. She wasn't talking about a God was she? He had long since abandoned the theory of a divine power due to the evils he witnessed. To many who see such a darker side of the human existence it seems almost too evil of a kind god to allow such to happen. Where was this god when the meek and gentle suffered at the hands of the dastardly cruel? Even so, he still felt the need to pass on the faith in hopes that it's morals would steer his own children away from the life he led. You can only keep a person innocent for so long, and as long as they acknowledged a better existence after life he saw his duty as complete,

"Yes." She nodded, her solemn gaze turning into one that displayed deep thought. Her words were spaced as she found a way to continue her story, "When I first got here I was just as silly as you were. Stumblin' around and the like. It was awful confusing…" Trailing on, she seemed to get lost in her own words. She shook her head back into the somewhat reality that was left to continue once more, "But then this man came along. He was wearin' a black top had and had a funny lookin mustache. He told me everything was gonna be okay from now on, that all will pay for their sins and the innocent will have eternal life. He said a bunch of other stuff too, but I didn't understand it at the time."

John had met this man before. He hadn't given him a name, but he recalled receiving a scolding for his past actions from a man of this description. Somehow he had known a story of himself splattering the guts of a woman named Heidi all over a wall. This fact was surprising to him. It all began to make sense to him when he tried to shoot the man in cold blood, but the bullets passed straight through. It was then that he realized that this man his daughter described was of some supernatural existence.

At the moment she seemed to understand her father's blank, for she flashed a sweet glowing smile to her father, "Oh Papa, Everything's gonna be okay now. You're gonna like this place. There's no worries." The man forced a dry chuckle, disregarding her statement,

"I'm afraid that can't be, Darlin. As long as your mother and Jack are still living I can't help but worry."

"You died for them, didn't you?"

"How'd you know that?"

"It was really brave. But it was to keep them safe, right."

John thought for a moment, causing a silence as he realized that it was exactly what he wanted. In the moment that he sent his family through the back of the barn, he realized that the only way to keep the law away from them and to pay for his actions would be with his death. It was the only way, and for a killer gunslinger it would be considered a courageous act,

"I guess so."

"Ma and Jack's gonna be fine. And if the worst happens, they come here. We'll be a happy family again."

Still, one questioned remained in his mind. After all he had done in his life, after taking into account all the lives he took unrightfully, who ever thought he'd deserve to live happily in any afterlife? Surly in the eyes of any kind deity he should deserve to rot in hell, not spend it with the people he was trying to protect all along,

"You paid for your sins when you gave your life." Although he had made the ultimate sacrifice, he still disagreed with his fate. Maybe he did possess a sense of justice,

"Since when did you get so mature?" The seemingly innocent girl continued to flash her warm smile with closed thin lips,

"Everything becomes clear once you die. Even to little girls." He laughed slightly, the girl wrapping her arms around his neck to give him a hug,

"Oh and Pa, I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"How's Rufus?" She released his neck shadowed with stubble, left as a mark of his former shell. She stared at him with wide eyes as he gave a laugh that seemed to ask in the tone 'really?',

"He's fine." Her glowing eyes seemed to light up in it's faded form,

"Good." A mere moment's pause seemed to be enough to take away her childish smile and replace it with an often used look of distress, "Oh... and there's something else I need to ask you."

"What is that?"

"What happened after I... died?"

The question was one that lingered since her arrival at the apparition ranch. It was true, she had been given the choice of returning to the human world by the strange man in the form of a ghost, but it came at price. She couldn't return to the bliss of this place without accomplishing what she had set out to do in the first place. And at the time, she was too innocent in her childish mindset that she didn't wish to see her family suffering. Now the curiosity was becoming unbearable, and she was beginning to miss her family. Specifically, she wondered how Jack was getting along without her constant nagging.

John took it hard, slightly clenching his fists at the memory. Carrying out your own daughter's lifeless body and burying her six feet under was something you could never live down. He even took it with him to the afterlife. The fact that he, or modern medicine, could do nothing to save her was the worst part. He felt helpless. Guilt haunted him for months,

"It was hell, putting your own kid in the ground before her mother's even gray. I'd never seen Abigail cry so hard, being the strong woman she is..." the memories of guilt still overcame him as he found the strength to continue, "Jack took it the hardest, he still hasn't been the same. He does nothin' but read his books anymore." The girl's eyes welted up with tears in their ducts. John was never a compassionate man, any western gunslinger is not the kind to offer much comfort, but any father has the ability to calm their child with their mere touch. what could have been an uncomfortable hug with any other was one meant to calm young Caroline,

"I'm sorry, Pa."

"You didn't do anythin wrong."

"Yeah I did."

"No." He rested his hand on her shoulder, pulling her apart from him once more, "Listen, Caroline... I was never much of a father to you or Jack. I never want you to think it, or anything, was your fault. All I can remember since you were a young kid was you giving me nasty looks, that I deserved 'cause of the things I let you see. I can't begin to apologize for any of it." His grip tightened. All of what he had said were things he wished he could have told her before. But now that they had both passed, he had hoped he would find the strength to shove past his hardened exterior to explain how wrong his decisions were in the past, "I've always loved you and your brother, since the day you came into this world 'till the day you left. I'm sorry your mother and I could never give you the life we wanted." Nothing sounded more sweet to her ears than his last words. Love. It was something she always felt was shy in her heart. At least from her father. Her first memories consisted of resentfulness towards John because of what he did, but it was as if now it were all released. No hard feelings remained. Only this unfamiliar love that grew in her heart,

"I love you too, Pa."

* * *

I'm intending for this to be my final chapter, guys. It's been a fun ride, and I'm gonna miss writing about sweet lil Caroline. Hopefully you've all enjoyed her story, be sure to review because they excite me. 3

P.S. Also check out my JackxOC story To Be Free if interested. I thought he needed to be shown some love :]


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